


The Savior needs Saving

by MiaMerces



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: First Person Narrator, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaMerces/pseuds/MiaMerces
Summary: Johnny died. Dallas went out of his mind. I hoped to run fast enough to stop a second tragedy.





	1. Tears

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The Outsiders or any of it's characters. I used a few lines from the book in the first chapter, which obviously aren't mine either.

We were all sitting at the Curtis house, in a kind of surreal daze. We had won the rumble, but no one seemed to truly be happy nor had the energy to throw a party like Soda and Steve had talked about earlier. We were silent even, apart from Steve's low hisses of pain from being patched up quite roughly by Soda, who looked like he was about to lose his shit if e didn't busy himself. He had taken care of Two Bit's wounds previously and had tried to clean mine but I wordlessly refused his help, being too numb and tired to care about them. I had my eyes on Darry, or the pacing mess that he had become as soon as he realized Pony was missing. I heard him mumbling about calling the cops faintly but I knew he wasn't going to risk losing his brothers just yet. It would destroy what was left of their family if Pony and Soda were sent to a boys home and even if no one had ever said it out loud before, it would kill all of us if it happened. Darry angrily fisted his hair and as I shot him a worried look, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. To my surprise, they were filled with tears. Before I had time to process what I was doing, I took his hand in mine causing him to stop dead in his tracks. I pulled him next to me on the couch and patted his back soothingly, hoping it would ease with nerves a bit, which it fortunately did. I handed him a weed and my lighter, he slowly took them and lit the smoke, taking a long drag out of it. 

«Relax Dar, I'm sure the kid's fi-»

«Don't you start with that shit-» He abruptly warned as the front door creaked open. Ponyboy walked in slowly with heavy steps, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and as you might've guessed, the man sitting next to me shot him one of his famous _where have you been ?_ before the boy had even reached the kitchen table. He soon realized something was terribly off with his youngest brother and asked with a much softer tone,

«Pony, what's the matter ?»

«Johnny's dead. Told him about beating the Socs...I don't know, he just died. Dallas is gone, he added after a a while, he's gonna blow up. He couldn't take it.»

 _Johnny's dead._ Suddenly, the surreal daze from earlier seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving us to the cold, hard and dark reality. The words repeated themselves over and over in my head, making me feel dizzy. I felt my stomach churn painfully, like when you're about to be sick or something. My vision blurred, probably from the tears welling up in my eyes so fast it made hard to focus on anything else. I almost tripped on the stairs of the porch, I hadn't noticed I got out of the house. I didn't know where I was going, I only knew I was running. Now that I think about it, it was kind of stupid of me to just leave the house like it would make me forget the gut-wrenching news I didn't want to accept. At this moment, it felt like it was the only thing I could do to stop myself from breaking down completely. Why didn't I let sadness overcome me, which would've been totally justified ? I'm not quite sure, but an inexplicable instinct told me I had something to do. I couldn't remember what it was back then, I do now. And it probably is the brightest thing my impulsiveness had made me do in my whole life. 

I had reached the lot within minutes, stumbling for real this time and landing on my knees, shaking uncontrollably. As I did, I saw a pale spot dance before my eyes, seeming to head towards me. I didn't quite make out what it was, mind you my eyes were still tearing up profusely. I blinked a few times before I recognized it as a mop of pale blond hair. _Dally_. I wiped my eyes roughly, allowing me to see the scene before me. He was being chased by the fuzz, and it didn't look good. I scrambled to my feet hurriedly and took a few wavering steps, panicking a little. Dally was getting closer now therefore I got a better look at him and noticed the handle of a heater poking out of his jacket. And that's when I freaked out. I think I screamed his name because he looked at me with a startle expression, like he didn't except me to be here. Our eyes met, his filled with an awful amount of pain and anger, mine with nervousness and fear. Something was going to happen, something real bad. 

You might think I ran fast to get to the lot in a short amount of time, but let me tell you I never ran as fast as I did the second I saw Dally's stormy eyes. My feet hit the ground with such force they instantly hurt, and I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. A greaser with a firearm isn't neat when the cops show up, someone like Dallas Winston with a gun was a whole other level of bad news. It could go off anytime aiming at anybody, I knew that for a fact.

He's dangerous, he's cold-hearted and mean, even to the gang sometimes, but I still reached for his uninjured arm, dragging him behind me with a newfound strength.

«Get your fucking hands off me» Dally yelled, emotion making his voice sound a little higher than normal. I didn't listen. His forearm stayed in my grip even if he could've easily pulled away, strangely enough. 

«Shut the hell up and follow me.»

I saw Darry, Soda, Two-Bit, Pony and Steve striding our way, most of them hobbling. I wondered what on earth were they doing there before getting to the conclusion Dally must've warned them he was coming somehow.

«Get lost all of you, the fuzz's after him !» I informed them loudly, not wanting them to get into trouble too. Thankfully, they obeyed and parted ways before they got too close to the cops, except for Darry, who stayed by our side. We started to distance the policemen as he led us in the narrow and poorly lit alleyways of his neighborhood, the footsteps behind us became quieter and quieter. We only stopped to catch our breaths when they disappeared moments before. I leaned against the wall of an old looking house, panting hard. Dally was laying on his back, gasping laboriously while Darry had his hands on his knees, looking far less exhausted than we both did. 

«What the hell was this about ?» Darry asked me after few breaths, glaring at me coldly. I understood Pony's desperation as his stare bore into mine, unspoken reproaches in them, his brother's look was untenable and unpleasant. I swallowed loudly, breathing deeply to calm myself. I didn't trust my voice just yet so I pointed at Dally's jacket where I saw his gun. He followed my finger and arched his brow, not seeing what I wanted him to. 

«He has a gun. I got scared» I simply said in a voice that didn't sound like mine. He palpated Dally's sides until he pulled out the object, sliding it in the back pocket of his jeans. He then grabbed the younger boy by the collar, lifting his body off the ground as if he weighted nothing, bringing him an inch from his face. I thought he was about to punch his nose in, his free hand clenching in a solid fist hitched closer to the other's face but he must've read the sorrow in his icy blue eyes because it circled his back instead. Then again, Dally didn't pull away from the hold Darry had on him. I understood why as his broad shoulders were shook by a heart-shattering sob. _He's gonna blow up. He couldn't take it._ Dallas Winston, the hoodlum, had broke, bawling in Darrel Curtis' arms. I never imagined such a thing to happen. I haven't imagined a sweet, innocent, kind hearted and scared dark-haired hero leaving us so soon either. I was nauseous all over again, now that the adrenaline had left my body. I was trembling violently as I watched the toughest greaser of Tulsa was falling to pieces. The gangs' pet was gone.

_Johnny's dead._


	2. We ran again

I pushed the door lazily, holding it long enough for Darry to come in half-carrying Dally's weight. Soda nearly jumped from the chair he was slouched in, hugging me and patting his brother's back because he couldn't properly embrace him with Dally half sprawled on him. He smiled at us reassuringly as he analysed our tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, even if his were as red as ours. Two-Bit was perched on the counter, a cheap-looking bottle of booze hanging from the hand that wasn't holding his head upright. I watched the Curtis brothers as they brought Dally to Pony and Soda's shared room, who had started to trash around, ordering to be left alone. Thankfully, Darry was quite a strong man and with Steve coming to help the hysterical boy inside the bedroom, no one had been hurt further and nothing had been destroyed. Some more shouts escaped from the closed door before a loud thump resonated, welcomed by mumbles and shuffling around. Assuming the situation was under control, I sat next to Two-Bit heavily, taking the bottle from his hand and taking a long gulp. The liquor burned it's way down my throat, leaving a bitter after-taste to my already dry mouth. _Oh Keith, drinking vodka straight from the bottle, how brilliant._. I didn't complain though. I swallowed a few more sips before my eyes watered again, I couldn't even tell if it was from the alcohol or from the poignant sensation a whole was being dug in my chest.

«How is Dally holdin' up ?» He asked after a while, eyes traveling from my bruised hands to my face tiredly. Not a hint of a smile deformed his traits, unlike usual. The spark in his eyes had been replaced by a dense curtain of unleashed emotions. I looked away, reminding myself it wasn't tough to cry, that I had shedded enough tears for the day. «He's been better. How's Pone ?» I answered languidly, the booze starting to ease my nerves slowly. «He's been better.» I hated that he didn't try to crack a joke like he would usually do, even if that would've been kind of heartless. This wasn't the time for humor, but Two-Bit never was this silent and I was desperate for a distraction. I can hardly cope to see everyone feeling this miserable, I didn't even want to try to deal with whatever the heck I was feeling.

«I think I'm gonna get back home, my mother's gonna worry about me.» He said after a while, trying to stand upright despite the copious amount of alcohol he had in him. I remembered Johnny's mother yelling drunkenly at the nurses back at the hospital, looking as if she was about to give someone a beating if she didn't get to see her son. I remembered the horrible things she had said about him even though he was on the verge of dying. I remembered Johnny, that had always loved his folks even if they were dicks, wanting his mom and dad to care for him desperately, had pushed his mother away that day. She or his old man had never worried about their son, I even doubted they ever were nice to him. A mix of anger and sadness overtook me, making my throat feel all tight. Johnny was the sweetest and most innocent boy all of us had known, he deserved happiness and love and now nobody could ever give that to him. Two-Bit's face went blank after his words, probably thinking the same way I did before he turned away abruptly, covering his eyes with his arm. I slid off the counter and wrapped one of my arms around him in a way I hoped was comforting, rubbing circles on his back with my free hand. 

«Let's crash on the couch for now, yeah ?» 

We trailed to the old piece of furniture where we all but cuddled, listening to the faint noises emerging from Soda and Pony's shared room. We drank the night away, drifting slowly into an uneasy sleep.

 

*****

The Curtis house wasn't particularly old but it wasn't exactly spanking new either. Since Mr and Ms Curtis' death, the boys laid off with some of the chores, causing the building to be a little more dirty-looking than it was. Therefore, when someone would walk around at night as there was no sound, the floor creaked under the foot. I had been awake for awhile, I always wake up in the middle of the night when I drink myself to sleep, listening to the faint noises coming from outside soothed me. I heard footsteps, and the floor, causing me to look up as a shadow jumping through the window. I rubbed my eyes tiredly, trying to figure out if I had hallucinated what I just saw but the rapid footsteps coming from outside the window convinced me I wasn't imagining anything. I untangled myself from Two-Bit's embrace and slipped out of the window in time to see the shadow turning around the block. I ran, occasionally stumbling across different objects (I was still pretty smashed) and called after whoever got out of the house. They turned around, icy blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness and took off. I cussed loudly, following Dally around for the second time tonight. I lost him in a matter of seconds so I erred around, confused and dizzy, finally sitting on the bench of a desert park. I hadn't realized I had passed out until I was shaken up brutally. 

«Hey grease, mind taking your dirty paws off the bench ? Don't want no stain on a public property.» I heard someone yell a few meters from me.

Hands were all over me before I had time to comprehend what was happening. I would've been less freaked out if they were aggressive but the touch felt sickly needy, which made me jump and punch whoever was near me. The guys towering over me stumbled back holding his nose, looking astonished. Before he or his friends could react to my outburst, I took off as fast as lightening. I didn't know or mind where I was heading, finally stopping when I literally couldn't breathe. I collapsed on the sidewalk, sobbing uncontrollably as the most painful memories I had flooded through my mind. I searched myself for my packet of Kool, smoking cigarette after cigarette until I calmed down.

«It's alright kid, I beat their asses for you.» No one but Dallas Winston mumbled, sitting next to me on the sidewalk. People were staring at us like criminals, maybe because of Dally, but I didn't mind. I crushed my cigarette on the ground, looking at my knuckles I hadn't realized were bleeding. Something was off about him. I studied him quickly, finally putting my finger on it. His pupils were so blown his eyes were nearly black. All was left of his intimidating gaze was a tiny rim of pale blue. His hands were shaking slightly and they were playing around with his hair a lot, something he never does. Then he started talking, and didn't stop. He was babbling on and on about random things, sometimes interrupting himself by laughing like a mad man. He was as high as a kite. He must've been to Buck's, or maybe Buck found him, and gave him something to calm down. It had happened before, I've heard, but never have I seen him in such a state. I got up and told him I wanted to get smashed at Buck's, which seemed to interest him as he followed me. I saw Buck's car two blocks later, we got in and I drove all the way to the shitty bar, hoping no cops would show because of Dally and because I didn't have any licence. Some cops got crazy sometimes about these things, even to us greasers. As we got out, I saw his blood had stained the passenger's seat. We got to his room where he crashed on the ratty mattress in a corner. It smelt awful, like liquor and weed. There was a small baggie filled with white powder half empty on a broken glass table.

«Darry clubbed me last night man, that motherfucker got me good.» He mumbled, holding his head, exposing his left side to me. He had a big gash starting from his armpit to his last rip. It didn't look that deep but I was no doctor. He swayed when he tried to get up again and passed out before I had time to do anything.

«Awe-fucking-some.» I groaned, struggling to pull him back on the bed. This was about to be a long night.


	3. Phone

I took advantage of Dally's unconsciousness to clean up his bruises because he wouldn't ever let me take care of him willingly. My hands traveled his chest in search of bruises I didn't see or broken ribs, the lighting in his room wasn't super-great, and came to the conclusion he didn't get that hurt. I finished wrapping him up and left shortly after. As I arrived downstairs, I ran in Buck Merril's lanky body and almost stumbled backwards.

«Well hello there, what a pretty girl like you is here alone for ?» He asked, leaning on a bar stool nearby. 

I rolled my eyes but still answered as politely as I could. I didn't want no troubles with someone as respected and powerful as Buck.  
«I escorted Dally to his room, he's pretty fucked up. Mind if I us your phone for a second ?»

The young man nodded after a few seconds of consideration and led me to what looked like his own room. I thanked him and quickly composed the Curtis' number. It got picked up at the fifth ring.

«Heya, you are you to call this early?» Two-Bit asked tiredly, yawning noisily. I checked the clock, it was six in the morning. Maybe they didn't even notice Dallas and I left in the middle of the night.

«Hey Two-bit, it's me. I just wanted-»

«Roxanne ? Wait, weren't you with me a second ago ? Where are you ?»

«Dallas ran away in the middle of the night, so I followed after him. He got in a fight, I brought him to Buck's to patch him up.»

«He let you do that ?»

«He's passed out. I'll stay with him for awhile, just wanted to let you guys know we're okay.»

There was a short silence at the other end of the line before Two-Bit seemed to understand what was going on.

«Shit, sure you don't need nobody else with you ?»

«Nah, I got this, thanks Keith. Take care of the gang yeah ?» I teased him with his real name to ease up the atmosphere, which worked as I heard him chuckle.

«Shut up, and yeah no worries. Be safe.»

I hung up before going back to Dally's room, hoping he didn't escape again. He opened his eyes as I shut the door behind me. He got up and cursed, holding his side. I sat next to him and looked him over rapidly. He didn't seem as high as he was earlier, which I was relieved for. The towheaded boy was super violent when he was on something, even to us sometimes. Confusion was written all over his face but he didn't say a word for the longest time before he figured out what had happened in the last 48 hours.

«Johnny...» He whispered brokenly, as if he was about to cry again. I started to panic, I didn't know how to handle Dallas when it came to emotions. I was the closest member of the gang to Dally, after Johnny, but I had never seen him lose control like he did before, so I was walking on new grounds. 

«Dallas...» I started when he got on his feet. I tried to stop him from moving towards the door but he pushed me to the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of me. I closed my eyes for a moment, my heart pounding in my head, focusing on the sounds around the room. It was dead quiet. _Please, please don't let him be gone again_ I silently prayed. 

«'M sorry.» I heard him say after a while. I opened my eyes abruptly and saw him beside me, a bottle in his hands. He was shaking as he helped me straightening up. He mumbled something but I was too shaken up to understand. 

«What ?» 

«I'm scared.» 

I was astonished by his blunt statement. To be honest, I was too, even of him. I had no clue to what I should do next, with Johnny gone. I tried not to think about it, I preferred feeling empty than awful sad and bad. 

I tentatively took his hand in mine, tracing small circles on it. 

«I know this is unsupportable but you gotta get a grip, please...you're though, I know you can do this-» 

«I don't wanna do this anymore...» 

«You gotta, for me, for the gang. I can't lose two of my brothers, one's already too much.» 

Because that was what they were all to me: brothers. The closest thing I ever had from having a family. Mr. and Mrs Curtis were gone, Johnny was gone, we were all broken and there was Dallas, who looked dead already. Nothing was ever going to be like it was before, I could hardly imagine making it if he left too. 

I interrupted myself to calm my breathing down. I imagined Dallas laying on his back, bullet-holes dug all over his chest, covered in blood and his icy blue eyes glassy. I almost got sick right then. 

«You can't leave too, Dallas. I won't take it...» 

His hands made their way to my back and rubbed it in a oddly comforting way. I let myself go against him, breaking down once again. 

«It's alright, kid. I got you.» 

I held onto him for dear life and prayed to this God who never helped any of us greasers to do so, for a change. 


End file.
